Molly crouched behind the extravagant hedge that outlined the perimeter of Mrs. Swanson’s estate, meticulously trimmed to resemble a line of dancing elephants. She watched through the small gaps between the leaves, eyeing the children scampering across the yard in various states of superhero costumes and princess gowns. Beside her, Bill fiddled with the myriad of gadgets attached to his belt, looking more like a malfunctioning Swiss army knife than a professional thief. "Okay, remember, we swoop in, grab the goodies, and swoop out before you can say 'pin the tail on the donkey'," Molly whispered, eyes sparkling with a mix of thrill and mischief. "You sure this is a good idea?" Bill replied, eyebrows knitted in worry as he watched a toddler stagger around comically in an oversized Batman cape. "I mean, it's just kids' presents, Mol." "Relax, they'll have forgotten about these toys before bedtime. Plus, we're redistributing the wealth. From little rich kids to... well, us," she chuckled, adjusting her black beanie. Bill sighed, "I guess. But if we’re caught, I'm not explaining this to the cops." "No one's getting caught," she assured confidently, then added, "Just follow my lead." The plan was simple, infiltrate the party disguised as entertainers. Molly had swiped a pair of clown outfits earlier that morning — big red noses, oversized shoes, and all. As she tossed one to Bill, his face scrunched up in disbelief. "We're going in as clowns? Seriously?" "Distract and disarm with humor, my dear Watson. Learned that in Thievery 101." Molly grinned, slipping into her costume. Minutes later, adorned with curly wigs and smeared makeup, they ambled toward the backyard, blending seamlessly with the chaotic energy of the party. Children shrieked and laughed, dashing about with plates piled high with cake and ice cream. Upon reaching the present table, a mountain of brightly wrapped boxes under a gigantic, glittering banner reading “Happy 5th Birthday, Tommy!”, they pretended to conjure tricks, drawing a curious crowd of children. "Watch closely kids, you see the scarf?" Molly demonstrated pulling a colorful fabric from her sleeve, making the children giggle. "And now, abracadabra!" While the kids were distracted, Bill, with a bit more subtlety, began to shift the smaller presents into a large, polka-dotted sack. Just as he was stuffing a box shaped suspiciously like a high-end remote control car, a suspicious-looking aunt approached, her eyes a scrutinizing slit. “What are you two supposed to be?" she questioned, arms akimbo. "The entertainment!" Molly chirped brightly, juggling three rubber balls she’d pocketed earlier. The woman squinted, unamused, "Funny, I don't remember the Clowns-R-Us van outside." Thinking quickly, Molly tugged a balloon from her pocket, blowing it up and twisting it into the shape of a poodle. "We parked around the corner, madam. Less frightening for the horses you see." "I see," the aunt said, though her tone suggested otherwise. As the makeshift balloon animal was handed over, Molly winked at Bill, signaling it was time to make their move. The duo took advantage of a sudden scream — a piñata had just exploded, raining sweets — to make their escape, sack brimming with Tommy’s trove. They slipped away, guests none the wiser, leaving only the echo of squeaky shoes and the faint aroma of cheap face paint.